Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Congo and from Philadelphia.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1966 to 1974.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Toronto and Mexico City.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Jakarta kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in at the first Suicide practice in a loft in New York.
I was working on the snare sounds with much patience.
I was there when Michael McDonald started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing the Swans to the rap kids.
I played it at the Astoria.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Marc Almond. All the underground hits.
All Fear tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Crash Course in Science record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '50s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a 808 and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Slave record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your mellotron and bought a synthesizer.
I hear that you and your band have sold your synthesizer and bought a mellotron.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Cheater Slicks,
Magma,
Minutemen,
X-102,
Marmalade,
Warsaw,
Faraquet,
Crooked Eye,
The Star Department,
Don Cherry,
In Retrospect,
Coldchain, Rosco P., Featuring Pusha T from Clipse & Boo-Bonic,
Larry & the Blue Notes,
Glenn Branca,
Glambeats Corp.,
The Litter,
Sun City Girls,
Kenny Larkin,
Nirvana,
E-Dancer,
Eve St. Jones,
John Lydon,
Minor Threat,
Severed Heads,
The Modern Lovers,
Rapeman,
the Fania All-Stars,
Scratch Acid,
Tears for Fears,
Eyeless In Gaza,
Sugar Minott,
Jeff Mills,
Morten Harket,
Brick,
Half Japanese,
The Black Dice,
Robert Hood,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
Fatback Band,
The Red Krayola,
Eli Mardock,
Bill Wells,
The Electric Prunes,
The American Breed,
Freddie Wadling,
These Immortal Souls,
Von Mondo,
Roger Hodgson,
Louis and Bebe Barron,
Index,
Ludus,
Deutsch Amerikanische Freundschaft,
Skarface,
Franke,
Los Fastidios,
Visage,
Monolake,
Selector Dub Narcotic,
Agitation Free,
Kas Product,
Gang Green,
Cybotron, Cybotron, Cybotron, Cybotron.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.